


The Marriage Game

by akire_yta, artemisscribe



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Brotp, F/M, Fake!Married, Gen, The College Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 11:27:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10512840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta, https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemisscribe/pseuds/artemisscribe
Summary: Two weddings and international shenanigans.  AKA: a long time ago, in a college far, far away, Penny and John’s friendship is too baffling for most.





	

**Author's Note:**

> we got talking about our love of fake!married and epistolary fics and...this happened

==//==

“I’m serious Sweet Pea!  You might have been having fun in Vegas, but I spent break studying, and I swear I’m still going to  _ fail _ this test!”

Penelope only just managed to avoid rolling her eyes at her classmate’s words. Camilla’s motivations were always transparent when she used that hideous nickname. Penelope only ever became  _ Sweet Pea _ when the other girl wanted something.

 “I suppose I can lend you my notes” Penelope sighed as they ducked into the Porter’s Lodge, weaving past a small clutch of tourists blocking the college gate.

“Really? Oh Penelope you’re the best! Yours are so much better than mine.”

_ Yes,  _ Penelope thought _ , that’s because I actually make notes _ .  “Just let me grab my post,” was all she said, instead of giving into the urge to deliver the kind of truths that would have Camilla flouncing off in a huff.

The porter gave her an odd look as she gave her name and requested her mail. He handed her the usual stack of envelopes, bound by an elastic band, and an extra one all on its own.

“It’s not your name Lady Penelope but I have a feeling this one is for you as well,” the porter explained quietly. His tone worried Penelope until she looked down at the envelope and saw, in her Aunt’s unmistakable handwriting, the words  _ Mrs Penny Tracy _ .

It wasn’t the first time Aunt Sylvia had made this joke; endlessly teasing Penelope over her first phone call home after starting university, where she had done nothing except gush about meeting John and how wonderful he was. Far more used to lackeys, hangers-on and simpering minions, an actual friendship with a true equal was a delightful novelty for Penelope. Sylvia had responded by starting a running joke of re-addressing her mail, a slightly more sophisticated version of an old schoolyard taunt.  Penny supposed she should be grateful Sylvia had stopped short of ‘sitting in a tree.’ 

But even as she scoffed at the envelope, she felt Camilla leaning to stare over her shoulder at the letter.  Penny was suddenly filled with the dreadful realisation that no one else had ever seen her open one before. She whirled around to set the record straight, envelope flapping between her fingers. Camilla blinked and leapt from the slightly panicked look on Penny’s face straight to ‘admission of guilt.’  “Penelope you didn’t!” the girl gasped, grabbing Penny by the shoulders, her eyes like saucers. “Tell me  _ everything! _ ”

Penny really should have shut it down there, explained about her odd Aunt and their silly in-jokes.  But there was a reason why Penelope was always Sylvia’s favourite; they were as odd and wicked as each other. Penelope made a split second decision and ran with it.   _ Call it practice _ , she justified to herself.

She looked around as if she was afraid of being overheard, dropped her voice to something lower, with more warning to it, “Camilla you absolutely cannot tell anyone. Nobody knows, nobody  _ can _ know!”

“Oh no absolutely! My lips are sealed.”  Camilla even made a lip-zipped gesture, and Penny had to fight down the urge to smirk.

There wasn’t a bigger gossip in Oxford, possibly in the whole of England, than Camilla Henderson. But the story was so absurd, it would obviously fizzle out before week’s end and they could all have a laugh over it.  It would teach Camilla right for being so nosy.

“Come on,” Penny said. “We’re going to be late for our tutorial.”

She picked up her post, pausing just for an extra moment to pull out her phone and send a picture to John. At least she knew he would get the joke.

 

 

John stopped dead, ignoring the polite mutters of the undergraduates as they streamed around him.  He paused, staring at the image on his screen for a moment, then grinned.

Juggling his books and his satchel, he managed to arrange himself sufficiently to take a photograph of his bare left hand.  “What, no ring?  I’m hurt,” he Snapchatted back.

His phone rang ten seconds later.  “Why am I thinking you’d like something in titanium?” she asked before he’d even got his phone fully to his ear.

John cut across the flow of students, heading for a side passage.  “I’m glad I at least rate a ring, since I obviously didn’t rate an invitation to my own wedding.”

Penny’s laugh was light and clear.  “The prime and only suspect is Aunt Sylvia.  She’s been making noises since I caught the bouquet at Cousin Clive’s reception over the summer.  And it would be like her to arrange it all without bothering me.”

“Well, that was kind of her.”  John shouldered his way past the door and up the narrow back stairs towards his lab.  “I have tutorials all day, but pizza tonight?”

He could hear street noises behind Penny, the ding of a bicycle’s bell.  “You do still owe me a honeymoon,” she pointed out.

John dumped his books on the workbench.  “Hmm, true. Garlic bread?”

“Sold,” she said firmly.  “See you at six.  Hubby.”  She was still laughing when John hung up on her.

 =//=

 

 

John opened the door to her, already in his sweats, with a plate of garlic bread held out like an offering.

“I accept,” she said formally, even bobbing a little curtsey as she took the plate.

John’s small living room was already a nest of blankets and pillows, just the way they both liked it.  There was a pizza box on the coffee table, and the wine was already uncorked.  She reached out and tried to pinch his cheeks.  “Ooh, aren’t you a good husband.”

John ducked her grasping fingers with the ease of long practice and belly-flopped onto the sofa.  “I am a protector and provider,” he said so straight-faced that Penny almost dropped her garlic bread laughing.  Dumping her coat over the armchair, she sank to her knees by the coffee table and poured out two glasses.  “Come here, darling, I have something for you.”

“Is it titanium and shiny?” he asked, already rolling off the sofa to join her on the floor.

  
“Very shiny,” she said, pulling a ring off her thumb.  “Technically I’m being gauche and regifting here, but it never fit me, and if I got it resized, it would ruin the patina.”

John held up the ring to the light.  The titanium was brushed to a matte finish, understated and elegant.  “Should I be worried you actually had a ring my size just sitting in your jewellery box?”

She shrugged.  “Call it a friendship ring,” she said lightly, breaking off a piece of garlic bread.  “You actually reminded me I had it.”

John set it onto the table with a muted, metallic clink and reached back.  “Well, this totally blows my idea out of the water.”  He sat back up --  in his hand was a garish plastic ball.

Penny froze, wineglass on her lip.  “Is that what I think it is?”

John nodded.  “Took me three times on the claw machine in the Covered Market to get the right one.”  Shifting up onto one knee, John held out the plastic ball.  “My Lady, will you do me the honour?”

Penny nodded, watching with delight as John cracked open the sphere and pulled out the flimsy plastic ring, sliding it up over the knuckle of her third finger.  “I am slightly terrified that it fits,” she admitted, holding up her hand to the light to admire it.

“That is because you are a ridiculously tiny, tiny person,” John replied, stealing a piece of garlic bread.  “Pizza?”

“First,” Penny said quickly, stilling him with a touch.  “May I?”

John’s fingers were warm as she settled the ring on his finger.  He gripped her hand before she could pull away.  “Friendship ring,” he confirmed, just the slightest hint of a question that someone who didn’t know him wouldn’t have even heard.

She kissed the tip of his nose.  “Best friends forever.  This is so you don’t forget it when you’re famous and popular and possibly out of this world.”

The ended up eating the whole pizza, Penny resting comfortably in the V of John’s long legs as they cuddled on the couch and watched old musicals.

 

=///=

There were flowers on his workbench.  John stood in the doorway and considered the problem from all angles. 

The conundrum was solved by Ravi drifting over from the lab across the hall with two mugs of good coffee from the espresso machine on the faculty level.  “Here man,” he said, thrusting one at John.  “I found out too late to go in on the flowers, but I figure you’re more a say it with java guy anyway.”  He chinked his mug against John’s in toast.  “Congrats.”

“For..?” John asked slowly.  The coffee smelled divine, but John was on edge for a trap.  Physicists took practical jokes to the next level.

“Your nuptials, man,” Ravi said like it was obvious.  “Damn, I honestly didn’t think you had it in you.  I wanna hear all the gory details of the wedding, and what came next,” he added with a big wink.  “But for now, I gotta get this test to run before the Prof murders my ass.  Later, newlywed.”  With another toast, Ravi wandered back across the hall.

John took a deep breath, set his mug next to the bunch of flowers and dug out his phone.

 

=//=

Penny ended up walking her professor back across campus as they chatted about the book he had recommended to her.  She suspected he enjoyed being wound up about it just as much as she did enjoyed doing the winding.  “But all I am suggesting,” she said as they crossed the quad, almost empty with the chilly wind blowing.  “Is that she would have been much better off if she’d just punched him on the nose in chapter one and taken off with his car.”

“That may be,” he chuckled.  “But it would have left us with a pamphlet rather than a book.”

Penny conceded the point with a graceful nod of her head as they came to a stop by the door leading up to his room.  “But,” he said regretfully.  “We shall have to pick this up next week, I need to go prepare for my next class.  Though,” he added, stopping Penny as she went to withdraw.  “May I add my heartfelt congratulations.”  He nodded at her ring.  The plastic one was tucked up safely in her jewellery box, but her grandmother’s ring was set in roughly the same shape, and it helped remind her of it.  “I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

Penny put on her most simpering smile.  “Oh, we already are.”  In her bag, her phone started to vibrate.  “Speaking of, excuse me…”

“Until next week,” he said, letting himself in and leaving her standing, huddled up in the lee of the building against the cold.

“So,” John said without preamble as she answered the call.  “We apparently are the talk of campus.”  He didn’t sound angry; more mildly perplexed.

“The flowers were nice,” Penny pointed out, adjusting the strap of her satchel as she headed across campus.

“They’re making me sneeze,” John grumbled.  “Come take them away.”

“Counteroffer,” Penny said.  “Bring them to the coffee shop and I’ll trade you them for one of those disgusting strong espressos you love so much.  Come on,” she wheedled as he hesitated.  “We can compare notes on what versions of the story we’ve heard.”

“And add fuel to the fire together by being seen in an intimate tet a tet?”

She laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.  See you in ten.”

==//==

 

==//==

Penny fell in next to John as he jumped off the last step of the stairwell.  “So,” she said briskly.  “According to the rumour mill, you and I eloped and had an intimate secret beach wedding,” she told him even as she tucked in against his arm.

John shortened his stride without thinking, an automatic reaction after years of Penny attaching herself to his arm like a limpet.  “That sounds like a nice feature in those magazines you pretend to read,” he noted quietly.  “Though I do burn if you describe sunlight to me, so hopefully nothing too tropical.”

“Tropical weddings are only good for scandalously scanty dresses and second marriages to football players,” Penny told him firmly.  “Besides, my wedding will be the talk of the town, a huge and jaw-droppingly elegant affair that will make all other weddings green with jealousy.”

John held the door open for her.  “How does a huge dramatic bridezilla-run affair--no, don’t pout,” he interrupted himself as she turned to glare at him.  “Accept your bridezilla status and move on.  But as I was saying, how does a big public wedding mesh with the fact that 90% of your guests will probably be there under an alias?”

Penny shrugged, and smiled sweetly at the barista behind the coffee cart.  “This is why I ran off and secretly married you,” she said, loud enough that several pairs of nearby ears visibly pricked up.  

John rolled his eyes, but Penny was right; the seemingly endless fascination of the entire college was kind of funny.  “If you secretly married me to keep a low profile, then we’ve  _ failed _ ,” he said, crooning the last word in close against her ear.

Penny giggled, girlish and bright, as she leaned in to tuck her head in on his chest.  Even in heels, she fit in neatly under his chin, and he stole a quick hug.

“Here’s your usual.”  The barista held out two paper cups.  “And, uh, mazel tov?”

Only once they had parted ways and John had settled into his lecture did he realize the barista had drawn a heart on the side of his cup.  Three girls from his tutorial were craning their necks to stare at him, giggling and nudging each other.  John turned the heart away from them and sank low into his seat as the lecture began

==//== 

==//==

A rumour had to have gained serious traction for it to make it onto John’s radar.  “What?” he repeated flatly.

“Ten will get you twenty that an Elvis impersonator was involved,” Ravi said almost salaciously, leaning in.  “So spill the beans, Tracy.  Were there hunka hunks of burning love?”

John sniffed.  “That sounds...unpleasant.”

“That’s not a no,” Ravi pointed out.

John threw a pencil at him.  “Don’t you have holes to punch in the fabric of space-time?”

Ravi backed out of John’s lab, making an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture.  “Vegas, Tracy.  I know your secrets.”

“As if we’d be that cliche!”

Ravi laughed.  “Classics are classic for a reason!”

John threw his eraser hard enough that it bounced of Ravi’s skull.  

==//==

 

==//==

“So when are you due?”

Penny froze, her mouthful of tea almost scalding her tongue.  She swallowed hurried.  “I beg your pardon?”

Lia and Callie, who had been in her hall during her undergraduate, were wearing matching grins as they loomed over her.  “Do you know if its a boy or a girl yet?” Callie asked, only to get elbowed by Lia.

“You don’t find that out til, like, the second trimester,” she scolded.  Her eyes raked over Penny hungrily, taking in the slim, fitted dress and chic little blazer.  “You can’t be far along, you’re not even showing, and you’re tiny,” she continued, almost blitheringly.  “You’ll definitely balloon out.”

Callie was nodding eagerly.  “My aunt did.  She was  _ huge _ at the end.” She sucked noisily through her teeth.  “Wait, if you’re only a couple of months… was it like, a summer fling thing?”

Lia rolled her eyes.  “Learn to count,” she snapped.  “It would have been...exams?”  She winked at Penny, who just took another, inscrutable sip of her tea.  “Were you two ‘studying’?”  She made exaggerated air quotes with her fingers.  “Late night rendezvous in the stacks, perhaps?”

Penny met Lia’s gaze straight on, and provocatively sipped her tea again.

Lia broke first.  “Fine, fine, just tell us when you want the baby shower.”  She nodded at the plate of small petit fours in front of Penny.  “Good to see you already eating for two,” she added.

Penny held onto her studiously neutral expression until after they had left.  Only then did she pick up the last biscuit and bite into it with a vengeance. 

==//==

==//==

John followed Penny’s not-so-cryptic clues to her secret hiding place.  “Shouldn’t a pregnancy demand a shotgun wedding?” he asked as she pouted at him where he stood opposite her.  “Kids today,” he tsked as Penny continued her silent pouting.  “No creativity.”

That evoked a small laugh out of her.  “I have to say, I didn’t anticipate  _ quite  _ this much interest,” she confessed.

John slung himself easily into the chair opposite, kicking up a foot to rest on the edge of Penny’s seat.  “The children of two very rich and famous people suddenly are married?  No,” he added sarcastically.  “I can’t see how that would ever be interesting to anyone.”

Penny’s frown had mostly faded as she leaned forward, one warm hand on his ankle.  “To be honest,” she whispered conspiratorially.  “I think it’s that I’ve married a commoner, and a colonial at that, which has them most upset.”

John sniggered.  “I’m trash,” he agreed easily.

She pinched his ankle.  “Lucky for you, you’re not hideous and the money does help....”  She studied his face for a moment.  “If you want me to announce the truth….”

John waved her off.  “And abandon my fake wife and our invisible baby?” He smiled at her small laugh. “Besides,” Penny’s eyes narrowed as John continued with a faux-innocent that didn’t suit him.  “We still haven’t had them throw us a proper party yet.  Or set up a registry.  Come on, Penny, you’re the one usually milking these schemes for everything they’ve got.”

“There is…” her head snapped around as, at the edge of hearing, her ears caught her name.  She waved John to silence as the voices grew louder and clearer.

“I mean sure it’s not a terrible deal,” one voice said, loud and brash. “Lady Penelope is so hot, but still I’d be pissed if my dad tried to sell me for a business deal.”

John stared at Penny, eyes wide in disbelief.  Through the tall shelves that separated their little nook from the next study area, they heard the sound of chairs clattering and the thud of bags being dropped. “What?” A second voice retorted, the sound carrying clearly in the hush of the stacks in the early semester.  “Nah mate, why would his dad need the money? She’s the one who got traded.”

“Money? Who said anything about needing money?”

“You said  _ his _ dad traded  _ him _ ”

“Yeah, for  _ iridium _ . Everyone knows the Creighton-Ward’s own a fuckton of Africa. Her old man’s discovered iridium on his land. Jeff Tracy wants mining rights. That’s what Martin told me, he was on the Union committee with her last year.”

“No you’ve got it all wrong” The second boy adopted the sage tone of the great British Man Down The Pub. “Of course  _ she’s _ going to share that one, it makes her look good. Lord Creighton-Ward  _ wants _ people to think that’s what happened.”

“So what really happened then, smartarse?”

“Her old man’s bankrupt,” he said promptly and with absolute authority. “Gonna lose everything if they don’t find the money, and then it’s bye bye cushy lifestyle for little Princess Penny.”

The boy’s tone had slipped into the far side of disrespectful and John tensed to stand, stopped only by Penny’s hand on his arm. She shook her head slightly, and he sank back onto his seat.

“So what does Jeff Tracy gain from bailing out the Creighton-Wards then?” the first voice challenged.

“Don’t you see? Her dad knows everyone! Old Boys Network innit? Tracy’s an upstart compared to him and his lot. If he wants to get his foot in some doors he’s gotta find a way to be one of them.”

“Which is why he buys his son a titled wife.”

“ _ Exactly! _ ”

John rolled his eyes as iridium boy started to buy into bankruptcy boy’s theory. He’d heard a lot of theories since they’d first fallen into this circus, but that one might have won the prize for most ridiculous.  He nodded at the stacks and mouthed a question.

Penny considered his offer for a moment; to suddenly walk past them, maybe even talking about the iridium, was tempting, but Penny liked to control her rumours.  She shook her head as she rose to gather her things.

Silently, they slipped out of the library.  Penny was intensely aware of the eyes that watched them pass.

==//==

 ==//==

Penny opened her door and blinked at the bottle John thrust at her.  “If we’re doing this,” he said in lieu of greeting.  “We’re doing this  _ right. _ ”

Penny was aware the door opposite was indiscreetly cracked.  “Of course, darling,” she said, loud enough that John’s eyebrow twitched.  “It was rather a whirlwind, wasn’t it?  We really should decide on some practical details.”  She stood aside to let him pass.

She triple checked the bolt on her door, just to be sure.  “Right,” she said, dropping the simpering act.  “Let’s talk.”

It took all of that bottle, and half the one Penny had in her fridge, but they soon had it down--the story, the wedding, the inheritances, all of it.

Penny raised her glass.  “To interesting times.”

John clinked his glass against hers, the crystal chiming sweetly.  “May we cause them, not endure through them.”  He tossed back his drink and shuffled over along the couch towards her.  “Now, what’s say we get some of that photographic evidence you need?”

==//==

==//==

  
John would admit it to no-one but Penny, but he was kind of enjoying being married.

They swanned around campus, enjoying the fall of leaves, and leaving sighs and stares everywhere they went.  The way everyone’s eyes hungrily scanned their hands, looking for and finding rings on fingers, seemed to be a trigger for a campus-wide exhalation.

People he swore he’d never seen before came up to him like they were already on a first name basis, to shake his hand and, more often than not, to give him a gentle nudge and a not-so-subtle eyebrow waggle.

“You think that’s bad?” Penny asked, holding her hand up, the fading daylight sparkling off the stone’s setting in a flare of colour as they walked through the dappled light under the trees.  “A newly married woman is apparently public property.”

John leaned into her.  “Or just parts of her,” he noted, letting his hand steal lightly over her belly.

Penny batted him away.  “You troll,” she laughed.  “You utter, utter, shitstirring beast of a husband.”

John tucked her back under his arm, feeling oddly at peace.  “A boy’s gotta have his fun while he can.  Oh, that reminds me,” he added.  “I heard the latest version of the ‘I married you for the mining rights’ story.”

She pinched his side lightly.  “Do tell.”

“You will be pleased to hear that your bridal price has gone up.”

She tossed her hair back.  “As it should.  I am a catch, a catch I say, Mr Tracy.”

John kissed the top of her head.  “Yes, you are, Mrs Tracy.  Now, do you want me to tell the rest of this story or not.  It has dastardly deeds and thrilling heroics,” he added as she prevaricated.

She gripped his hand, and he could feel the band of her ring against his fingers.  “It all takes place in deepest, darkest, suburban Nigeria…” he began.  By the time they made it to her door, he was almost holding her upright as she laughed, loud and uninhibited.

She wiped away a tear from her eye as she struggled to get her breath back.  “I am glad to hear our wedding is the result of international shenanigans.”  She pressed her thumbprint to the door lock.  “Are you coming in?”

“I shouldn’t….” John said slowly.  With the gossip and the constant queries about his fictional personal life, he was behind on his work.   


Penny twisted away and draped herself in the open doorway.  She batted her eyes and turned the full force of her appeal on him.  “I have a bottle of that red you like,” she tempted, biting her lip and…

“Are you fluttering your eyelashes at me?” John asked, unimpressed.

Penny dropped her arms and shrugged.  “Worth a shot.  I meant it about the wine, though.”  She crooked her finger and made a come hither gesture.  “I’m sure part of our vows was that you had to save me from drinking alone.”

John gestured for her to lead the way.  Neither cared to notice that the apartment across the hall had its door half-open.

_ ==//== _

 ==//==

“So let me get this straight,” Virgil sat up to set his beer down on the coffee table, wobbling dangerously as he did so. “One letter and one nosey classmate and suddenly this is a vast international conspiracy?”

“It’s awful but hilarious” Penny agreed.

“You know what is awful?” Virgil asked them. “Is the fact that you didn’t invite your favourite brother to your fake wedding.”

“We weren’t invited to our own fake wedding!” John pointed out as he swiped Virgil’s beer from the table, “And you’re not my favourite brother, you drink all of my booze.”   
  
“Scott drinks more than me.”   
  
“Scott pays.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Virgil insisted, he waved away John’s protest as he tried to steal the bottle back, but failing against his more sober brother’s reflexes, “So no elaborate fake wedding?”

“We did exchange rings” Penny admitted.  “Although mine is in my room.”

“Okay, no, we are doing this properly.” Virgil sat up with the kind of determination that only came from alcohol consumption as he pulled his phone from his pocket. John sighed and took a long drink of his stolen beer, far too sober for this kind of thing.

“Virge, I know we’re rich, but I am not paying for a fake wedding.”

“No, no, shush. I know that. Pass me those onion rings.”

John had no idea where his brother was going with this but he dutifully handed the take-out box over. Virgil took it as he scrolled through something on his phone.

“Right okay. Dearly Beloved, aw shit,” Virgil frowned at the vows he’d found online. “We don’t have witnesses.”

Penelope scrambled over the coffee table to fetch John’s tablet.  “Since it’s a fake wedding we can have fake witnesses.”  She opened up the tablet and found a photo of a church congregation before propping it up against the stack of takeout containers, facing them.

“Alright, witnesses, let’s go.”

“Hang on a sec,” John said, starting to get into the spirit of things as he ran into his room and came back with a pillowcase that he threw to Penny. She gave him a dubious look.

“Really?”

“If we’re getting fake married, we’re going to fake it right.”

Penelope laughed as she tucked the pillowcase over her hair like a veil. Virgil picked an onion ring out of the box of food and began the vows again.

“Dearly Beloved, we are  _ not _ gathered here today to join this man and this woman in Unholy Matrimony. If anyone knows of any lawful impediment as to why these two can’t  _ not _ be married, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

He looked expectantly at the crowd photo on the laptop as if he was actually waiting for one of them to answer him.

“No? Good. John repeat after me: I, John Glenn Tracy.”

“I, John Glenn Tracy.”

“Take you, Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward.”

“Take you, Penelope Charlotte Alexandra Creighton-Ward,” John had a smug look on his face as he smirked at his brother through the recitation of names.  Penny shook her head at them as she laughed softly.

“To not be my lawful wedded wife.”

“To not be my lawful wedded wife.”

“To neither have nor hold, from this day forward.”

“To neither have nor hold, from this day forward.”

“For neither better nor worse.”

“For neither better nor worse.”

“Not for richer and certainly not for poorer.”

“Not for richer and certainly not for poorer,” John laughed his way through the line, mimicking Virgil’s tone and pompous cadence.

“In neither sickness or in health.”

“In neither sickness or in health.”

“Until faked death us do part.”

“Until faked death us do part, which let’s be honest here Pen is a serious possibility with you.”

Virgil turned to a laughing Penelope and ran her through his joke vows before he took the onion ring and handed it solemnly to John.

“Alright bro: With this onion ring I thee do not wed.”

“With this ring I thee do not wed.” John laughed as he handed the onion ring to Penelope, who promptly took a large bite out of it.

“And now with absolutely no power, invested in me by no one whatsoever,” Virgil intoned. “I do not pronounce you Man and Wife, you may not kiss the bride.”

“Thank goodness,” John said with pure relief that Penny punched him on the shoulder and stole the rest of the onion rings.

==//==

==//==

John was barefoot in the tiny kitchen in his apartment, watching his pasta boil with the kind of neutral mind that only a routine and ritual task could help him find.  Grate cheese, stir sauce, dump pasta out to drain.

Just as John was searching for a clean fork, his phone rang.  He’d disabled most notifications -- his social feeds were mostly a scrolling screen of screaming and flailing these days -- and only a few people had his direct number.

John juggled his warm bowl onto the counter and fished out his phone.   _ Father Figure _ was flashing on the screen.

John winced and answered the call.  “Hey, dad,” he said brightly, one hand over his eyes.

“Hi John,” his father greeted him.  “I just thought I’d call, see what was up, if anything interesting has happened to you lately, or anything you’d like to discuss with your dear old dad.”

John stabbed his dinner.  “Oh,” he said, taking on the same light, airy tones as his father.  “Not much.  Pretty quiet around here, absolutely no shenanigans or hijinks whatsoever.”

Jeff broke first, his laugh loud down the phone line.  “And here I was thinking you’d got me a daughter for Father’s Day.”

John chuckled despite himself.  “Father’s Day isn’t for months.”

“Birthday then,” Jeff replied promptly.  “New Years, Christmas, St Patricks, whatever the nearest holiday is.”

“Fine,” John snorted.  “Happy Arbor Day, dad, I married my best friend.”

There was a pause.  “This isn’t just a rumour?” his father asked carefully.

“Oh, it’s fake,” John hastened to add, noting the faint sigh of relief echoing down the line.  “Penny cracked a bad joke and it kind of took on a life of its own.”  His eyes narrowed.  “How did  _ you  _ hear about it though?”

“Because,” Jeff said like a man revealing an ace.  “Tomorrow, the Financial Times will be running a piece about ‘merger-via-marriage.”

John winced.  “Dad, I am so sorry, it really was just a prank, and….”

“And overnight, we had a five point stock jump,” his father cut in smoothly.  “So as far as out of control rumours go, believe me when I say there are far worse things than this.”

John let his head fall back.  “Dad, did you just make a profit off one of Penny’s scams?”

He could almost hear his father shrug.  “Waste not, want not.”

“What happens,” John asked with forced patience. “When the truth gets out, and people learn we’re  _ not _ married?”

“Well, they’ll feel like idiots for listening to campus rumours, and we’ll still have their money,” his father replied so bluntly that John’s toes curled.

“Dad,” John said as clearly as he could.  “You have your scheming voice on.  Please don’t scheme about my best friend and me.”

His dad snorted.  “Kiddo, as you and your brothers used to say to each other -- you started it.”  He sighed.  “But, John, listen as I dole out some unasked for advice.  There are far worse things than marrying your best friend.”

John contemplating bashing his fork against the phone’s receiver until his problems went away.  “Dad.  We’re not married.  You don’t have a daughter-in-law.”

“Yet,” Jeff answered smugly.  “And hey, if you can be fake-married, I can get a not-daughter out of the deal.”

John shook his head, but he couldn’t help his smile.  “And what does his Lordship think of you adopting his daughter?”

Jeff laughed again.  “Kiddo, he’s already planning to invite you to his family Christmas dinner this year.  Deal is done.”

“Deal is undone,” John fired back.  “We’re not married.”

“I should hope not,” Jeff retorted.  “I wasn’t invited, for a start.  I don’t care if you boys get married in a big ceremony or a private affair, but I at least expect an invitation.”

John hung up on his father.  He felt he was justified at this point.

==//==

==//==

 

John stepped into their favourite coffee shop and immediately knew something was up.  

Penny was sat in a ring, the centre of attention.  John knew, better than most, what kinds of catastrophes she could make out of that.  She caught sight of him at the edge of the circle and waved brightly at him, forcing all eyes to turn to him.  “John, darling, there you are.  Come, I’ve saved you a seat.”

John made the complicated hand sign that indicated that he was a) getting a coffee, and b) did she want one?  At her nod, he headed for the counter, well aware of the dozen stares boring holes in his back.

It took too little time for them to whip up their drinks, and then there was nothing for it but to dive into the ring of people.

There was laughter, Penny’s voice chiming like the major note in the middle of it all.  “...and then,” she was saying brightly as John slid in beside her, pressed up tight in the crush of admirers.  “This one,” she continued, weaving him into her story without missing a beat.  “Tells the cultural attache that he is from Kansas, and all their culture revolves around corn.”  John rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee.  Penny patted his knee fondly.  “I’m still impressed you kept a straight face talking about those hayricks.”

John sighed, but could feel a smile trying to tug at the edge of his lips.  Penny’s playful mood was infectious, and John knew several of the faces surrounding them, had for months tolerated them abruptly stop whispering every time he came into a room.

He’d give them something to whisper about.

“Hay  _ rides _ , Pen,” he said fondly, leaning in to press a dry kiss against her cheek.  “It’s hay rides.  And as an honorary Kansan, you are now contractually obliged to go on one the next time we visit home.”

Penny, as he knew she would, picked up on the theme.  “Yes, do still have to do the grand tour of all the relatives.  I’d love to go in the fall, your brothers have been telling me stories.”

John sipped his coffee, almost  _ hearing _ ears audibly prick around them.  “If we go in the fall, we’ll get roped into helping with the harvest, and you can’t drive a combine in high heels.”

She pushed him playfully, letting him rock back into her so they now sat pressed arms and hips together.  “A Lady can do anything she chooses to, backwards and in high heels,” she told him archly.

“I’ll take your word for it,” John teased, letting his eyes drift down her legs for a calculated moment before snapping them back up to her face.

The tiniest lift of her eyebrows told him she had the measure of his game.  “John darling,” she said as brightly as a new knife.  “Katie here was just asking me what we got up to over the summer?”

John was aware that Penny turned with him, the pair of them fixing their matched stares on John’s labmate.

Katie smiled, a little awkward and forced, but to her credit, she rallied.  “Yeah, John.  What did you get up to over the summer?”

John swirled the last of his coffee around the small demitasse cup, enjoying the lingering fragrance.  “Hmm,” he hummed, letting the attention build.  Being friends with Penny was like a multi-year master class in working a crowd.  He could feel her silently egging him on.  “Mostly spent it with my family,” he said at last, even as he let his spine slump slightly back into Penny.  He felt her hand rest on his hip, and knew the small movement hadn’t gone unnoticed by the crowd.  “Did a bit of traveling.”  He turned his head slightly, into where Penny almost had her chin resting on his shoulder.  “Vegas was an unexpected highlight.”

He was mostly immune to Penny’s smiles, but this one was so bright and so close that he had to smile back.

A small sigh from the crowd snapped them back to the present.  Penny reached over took John’s wrist, angling his watch so that she could read the time.  “Oh dear,” she pronounced theatrically. “Darling, we really should be going if we’re going to make that appointment on time.”

John nodded as he rose, holding out his hand courteously to help her rise.  “Yes,” he said, unable to resist dropping one last hook into the water.  “Especially since they’ll charge in seven minute blocks whether we’re there or not.”

Again, that fleeting flicker of a glance that let John know that Penny was still with him.  “I’m more afraid of what they’ll decide if we’re not there to argue our case.  So we better hurry.”  Only then did she glance away, as if only just remembering their audience.  “If you’ll excuse us?”

They made it all the way out of the cafe and around the corner, arm in arm, before Penny’s giggles erupted and the pair of them almost collapsed laughing.

==//==

As the academic year continued to turn, the intense curiosity of the entire college faded into an easy acceptance that Penny and John were now PennyandJohn.  They began to assume that invitations extended both ways, that there would always be room for two wherever they went.  In years to come, John would remember these months like they were rose-tinted.  

Snow was falling thickly as they rode together in the back seat of her father’s car, heading towards her ancestral lands.  John sat, chin on his hand, and watched the miles pass by out the window as, next to him, Penny used his borrowed tablet to finalize her plans for the Christmas Eve party that was a feature of the season.

“There,” she said, snapping her compact shut as his tablet screen went dark.  “Crisis averted.”

John didn’t turn from the window.  “You wouldn’t be happy if it all ran perfectly smoothly.”

“That is a vile accuracy,” Penny retorted, flipping open his satchel to return his tablet to its rightful place, taking care to slot it in with the power button facing up like he preferred.  “It’s not fair you know me so well.”

“Someone has to.”  He finally turned to look at her.  The setting winter sun was streaming in through her window, backlighting her hair to the point where it was almost glowing gold.  “Also, I bet ten.”

“Ten what?” she asked, distracted by a new message on her compact.

“Ten newlywed congratulations.  First Christmas and all,” he added as she looked up with sudden realization.

“After that article,” she countered. “I’m thinking closer to twenty.  Winner gets a bottle?”

John shook her outstretched hand.  “Loser pours.”

Penny’s handshake was firm, her fingers warm and gentle in the palm of his hand where she left them as she slid across the seat to rest her head against his shoulders.  “Wake me when we reach the gates, darling,” she murmured.  “I need some beauty sleep.”

John tucked her in closer and settled back to watch the English countryside fly by.

==//==

“Lurking?”

John turned, smiling as Penny closed the door to her father’s study behind her.  The sound of the party cut off from a chatter to a distant hum of voices and music.  “Just taking a breather from…”  He waved his hand back towards the party.  “Everything.”

Penny laughed softly as she drifted over to settle on the arm of her father’s favourite armchair.  This close to the fire, her hair glowed like burnished copper, her cheeks flushed with wine and too much rich Christmas food.  “I apologize for all the pinches my Aunt Sylvia delivered.”

John rolled his eyes as he came over.  “My butt is going to be black and blue in the morning.”

Penny laughed, louder at John’s unimpressed stare, as she slithered off the armrest onto the seat proper, her legs still kicked up over the armrest.  “Sorry, darling.”

“You’ll keep,” he grumbled, but he was smiling as he pushed her legs off the armrest to make room to sit down.  Sprawled, legs kicked out in a remarkably unladylike spill of silk-stockings, her eyes were glittering in the low light.  “Also, fair warning,” he added. “I have had several not-so-subtle attempts already to find out when our firstborn is due.”

“How does the twenty-fifth of never suit you?” she shot back, seemingly unconcerned at her posture, or her neglected guests several rooms away.

John shrugged.  “Anytime that week works for me,” he told her drily, sparking another laugh.  “How much champagne have you had, woman?”

She shrugged.  “Enough that everything is sparkly, not so much that the room is spinning.”

“You sound disappointed.”

Penny finally forced herself to sit up properly, leaning over slightly to rest her head against his side.  “Sometimes it’s nice to just watch the world spin.”

John stroked a stray strand of hair back off her cheek.  “You do so love making whirlwinds.”

Penny’s lashes were dark on her cheek where as she closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, her head getting heavier as she relaxed into him.  “Must keep things interesting.  Otherwise you might get bored and leave me, and then where would I be?”

“A beautiful and powerful Lady with an action-packed career and a circle of friends that, judging by that room, include most of the great and the good of Europe?” John hazarded.

“But down one John, and that is just unacceptable,” she replied archly.

“But I am…”

“Hush,” she cut him off, her champagne-loose wrist sending her hand slapping across his mouth.  “No talking.  It’s Christmas.”

John shook his head, dislodging her hand.  “Very well.  Merry Christmas, Penelope.”

“Merry Christmas, John.”

John kept his eyes on the fireplace, unwilling to risk it.  They’d for months now been carefully tiptoeing around the fact of the calendar.  But his apartment was mostly packed up, his lab already re-assigned to the next student.  All he was waiting for was the final reports to be filed as soon as school reopened, and that would be that.

He would officially be Doctor Tracy, and Doctor Tracy needed to go onto his next adventure.

His father’s engineer had been sharing plans and prototypes--John knew he could be in orbit as early as February, if all went to schedule.  And Penny would go onto wherever her training took her next, and that would be that.  No more meeting at their favourite coffee shops, no more long walks along the river.  No more late night movie marathons and arguments over pizza toppings.

No more JohnandPenny.  At least, not like it had been for the last few months.

A flash of colour caught his eye.  He turned, frowning softly at the way Penny was holding her hand up to the firelight, letting the jewel of her grandmother’s ring catch the light.

“You’re still wearing your ring?”  There were a thousand words bouncing around his head, but that was the only thing he seemed able to say.

Penny’s hand fell onto her belly, her other fingers wrapping around the ring as if to hide it.  “So are you, I noticed,” she retorted.

John’s fingers twitched the cool titanium band he wore.  It had become a habit, to push the circle around his ring finger with his thumb, a nervous tic he hadn’t expected.  “Well, um, family Christmas...it seemed appropriate…”

Penny sighed and held out her ring before them.  “Friendship ring,” she murmured.  “I’m going to miss you so much, I don’t think a ring can do it justice.”

John gently caught her hand.  “I know what you mean,” he breathed, studying the stone.

Penny lifted her head to look up at him.  “Are we going to be okay?”

John managed a weak smile.  “Always.”

The party forgotten, they sat together and watched the fire burn down.

==//==

The movers were gone, leaving behind a faint scent of sweat and dust.  John did one last orbit of the apartment, checking under cabinets and in drawers.  Everything was gone, he knew, but some instinct had him lingering in this spot, unable to lock the door and move on.

“Knock knock?”

John stepped out of the kitchen, automatically going around the spot where his small table had been.  “Hey,” he breathed as he caught sight of Penny lingering on the threshold.   “There you are.”

“Not running off without saying goodbye, are you?” she asked, one eyebrow impeccably arched.

“Never,” he assured her.  “I’d say come in and take a seat, but…” he waved his hand to take in the echoing emptiness.  “They’ve already been taken.”

“This is strange,” she admitted as she crossed the room to put her purse on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.  She turned once on the spot, ending up facing him.  “You’re really leaving me?”

“I’m leaving everything,” John tried to correct her.  “You, Oxford…in a few weeks, gravity…”

That startled a laugh out of her.  “So it’s really happening.  Doctor John, in space.”  Despite everything, John grinned at the thought.  He ducked his head shyly, and Penny clucked her tongue, catching his chin to force him to look at her.  “You’re like a school boy on his first day of senior year,” she laughed gently.  “Darling,” she added, her smile fading but her eyes still bright.  “I am so, so proud of you.”

He felt his blush and tried not to wince.  “Thanks, Penny.  That...it means a lot.”

“Oh come here,” she laughed, pulling him down into a fierce hug.  “What am I going to do without you here to stop me?”

John laughed, holding her tight against his chest.  “When have I ever been able to stop you?”

She snorted.  “It’s the thought that counts.  And it’s always nice to have the company for the ride down.”  She pulled back slightly, still safe in the circle of his arms as she studied his face.  “Though I never did get my honeymoon.”

That startled another laugh out of John.  “We never even really got to the reception, if you’re being technical.”

Penny got a calculating look, one that John had learned to respect and fear in equal measure.  “That’s right.  I never got my bridal waltz.” 

“Penny…” John said warningly.

She rocked gently in his arms, making them sway.  “Come on, you’re leaving me.  Give me this one thing, you bully.”

“I’m the bully?”  He sighed, rolling his eyes.  “But we don’t have any music.”

“When has small details like that ever stopped you before?” she challenged.  “Come on John.  One last dance to remember our star-crossed love affair.”

John sighed again, more just to see her pout harder.  “Fine,” he finally capitulated.  Taking her hand, he hummed a simple three four time, the steps basic and boxy in the small kitchen.  “There, see.  Dancing.”

“You dance divinely,” Penny said without a trace of sarcasm.  She stepped in closer, shrinking their steps to little more than a slow sway as they circled the room again.  She laid her cheek on his chest, as if to hear the rumble of his humming.  “John?” she asked, quiet and vulnerable.  “This--Oxford, me, everything.  It was good for you too, right?”

John kissed the top of her head.  “Penny,” he said fondly, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head.  “I had the time of my life with you.”  She almost purred, and John rubbed his chin across the spot he’d just kissed.  “Pen?  You know I...I do love you.  Not like what they thought,” he added.  “Not like picket fences and all that. But I do love you.  You get that, right?”

Penny had to go onto tiptoes to be able to press a chaste, honest kiss against his cheek.  “And I non-romantically love and adore you, and always will.”  She smiled softly at John’s fond expression.  Settling back down against his chest, she tightened her arm around his waist.  “Promise me, if either of us do fall in love with someone like that, we’ll dance like this at the wedding?  We’ll still be friends like this?  Always there, no regrets?”

She felt his slight nod.  “Cross my heart.”

She sighed, satisfied, as they completed one last circuit of the kitchen.  They pulled apart on some unspoken signal, John flipping off the light as Penny gathered her purse and John’s satchel, passing it over to him.

John looked around the room one more time.  He then pulled the door firmly closed.  “Ready?” Penny asked, offering her hand.

John took it one last time.  “Ready.”

Together they walked outside.

==//==

**Years Later...**  

==//==

“Why?” Gordon asked, his voice preceding him into the lounge.  “Is it that, instead of the hearty congratulations traditional on the announcement of a wedding, I’m getting a whole lot of  _ what the fuck? _ ”  Virgil craned his neck to take in Gordon’s particularly epic gobsmacked expression.  “And why is John featuring far too often in conjunction with my beautiful blushing bride-to-be?”

Virgil turned back to his book.  “Well, he was married to her first,” he said with a shrug.

Two seconds later his book was ripped from his hand.  Gordon’s eyes were like saucers.  “What. The.  _ Fuck? _ ”

==//==

“It was a joke,” John said for what felt like the thousandth time, trying to rub away the migraine growing behind his eyes.

“And yet in the three years I’ve been going out with Penny you never thought to mention it?” Gordon asked.

“Because it was a joke!” John cried, “And by the way your future wife never mentioned that she used to be fake married to me, so I don’t get why you’re taking it out on me.”

“Because you’re here, and you’re my brother.”

“And it was a joke,” John sighed, “Virgil tell him.”

“It was pretty funny at the time,” Virgil agreed.

“But some people think it was serious,” Gordon pointed out, “Some people think you’re still damn  _ married _ .”

“More people still think you’re gay,” Virgil pointed out, “And that the thing about the Swedish handball team was true.”

“What part of ‘let’s never speak of that again’ didn’t you get?” Gordon whined, pouting at his brother.

“Exactly,” John said, spotting an out from this conversation. “So give me a break about a dumb college prank.”

“Sorry man,” Gordon said.  At least he had the good grace to look bashful, “I know it wasn’t real.”

“Yeah,” John said with a smile Gordon couldn’t read. “None of it was real.”

==//==

Penny had many acquaintances but few close friends.  Gordon could make friends with anyone.  Both were savvy enough, in their own way, to know how to keep their wedding  _ theirs _ but still use it to bolster key ties and new business connections.

As such, it was a mis-mashed group who witnessed Gordon and Penny say  _ I do. _

The afterparty was a sweeping ballroom affair, the old country house Penny had chosen all soaring architecture and a maze of quiet nooks and crannies off the main excitement of the dancefloor.  Best man duties done, Virgil mingled, catching up with friends of the family and introducing himself to those he was meeting for the first time.

Next to Gordon, Virgil knew he was seen as the most approachable Tracy, and so he was probably the first to hear the rumours.

_ Second marriage--to a second Tracy _ .

_ I hear that the first ended badly. _

_ Divorce or annulment?  Oh my! _

_ She’s doing well, trading in for the younger model….and an Olympian! _

_ So sad when families fall apart...I see he’s not here _ …

Virgil frowned, and under the cover of heading to the bar for a fresh drink, Virgil began searching for his next-eldest brother.  He wasn’t at the head table, or the bar, or mingling obediently around the tables that ringed the dancefloor.

Virgil stopped and tried to think like John.  Scooping up a second flute of champagne, he headed for the stairs.

John was alone, almost lost in the shadows of the furthermost juliette balcony that overlooked the dancers below.  He barely looked up as Virgil held out the flute, but his fingers light and careful on the fine crystal stem.  “Thanks,” he murmured.

“Remembering another wedding?” Virgil asked, coaxing a small smile out of John.

“Apparently ‘formal’ and ‘onion rings’ don’t match,” John quipped.  His smile faded as he looked down to where Penny and Gordon were laughing in a knot of people by the head table.  “Look at them.”

“Not bad for a squid,” Virgil agreed, holding out his own flute to tap it lightly against John’s in a ringing chime of crystal on crystal.  “But I think the bride would like to see you there too.”

John nodded, a faint smile acknowledging the silent rebuke.  “I did promise,” he murmured cryptically as he turned for the stairs.  Virgil sipping his champagne as he took over John’s spot overlooking the dancers.

==//==

“Ladies choice?” Penelope’s hopeful voice made John laugh as he approached.

“How can I say no to my beautiful new sister?” John smiled as he took her outstretched hand and let her lead him out onto the dancefloor where several couples were dancing to a slower number, something that wasn’t really Penelope’s style.

“You can’t dance in that dress can you?” John made an educated guess as he helped Penny to wrangle the unruly skirt of her wedding gown.

“I’m starting to understand why the women’s rights movement coincided with the death of the crinoline” Penny muttered bitterly, “I cannot get anything done in this damn thing.”

John collected up the train of the dress, draping it over his own arm as he took Penelope into a close hold. “Never thought I’d be dancing with you in a wedding dress.”

“You never thought I’d get married?” Penny gives him a judgmental look, “Am I so unlovable?”

“More I just thought you’d do it the way everybody thought we did it. Just come back one day with a ring and a husband.”

“Oh John,” Penny sighed, “I don’t even wear the same pair of  _ shoes _ twice. Why on earth would I get married the same way twice?”

“You married a Tracy twice,” he pointed out patiently.

“See,” she said, eyes sparkling in the low light. “I knew you were going to bring that up.” 

Her smile was sad and full of love and for a moment he forgot that there was music playing, forgot that there’s anything in the world other than Penelope’s smile. If he was ever going to fall in love, it would have been with that smile, those knowing eyes, that graceful poise, the soft, small hand that squeezed his to get his attention like she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Earth to John,” she said, peering into his eyes. “Come in Thunderbird Five. Do you read me?”

“Loud and clear.”  John laughed and brushed the tip of his nose against hers, an oddly forward gesture of affection from him in front of other people, one that made Penelope feel a faint rush of nostalgia.

In another life this dance, this wedding isn’t happening. In another life she married this man ten years ago in a Las Vegas chapel or over an anvil in Scotland, or on a deserted beach in Indonesia or any of the dozen other places the rumour mill had suggested. 

In another life they’ve had ten years very much like the ones she’s really lived; the same jokes, the same pain, the same devotion, but packaged up neat in the way the world respects and understands.

In another life, she wondered, in this moment, across a temporal plane somewhere, is she looking at Gordon the same way she does now? Or was it just the champagne on an empty stomach, the too-tight shoes and the too-heavy dress, the delayed shock of realising that she’s promised to pledge her dying breath to another human being and the enormity of what that all means?

“Do you ever wonder-” she started, but John shook his head.

“Don’t finish that sentence, Pen.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” she pointed out.

“You were going to ask me if I’ve ever thought about what if we’d actually done it. What would our life be like if all the rumours were true. You want to know if we’d be happy.”

“Alright,” Penny said, a little rueful, a little abashed. “You did know what I was going to say.”

John gave her a wistful look.  “And I know that it’s a question you really don’t want me to answer four hours after you married my little brother.”

“Then lie to me,” Penelope challenged. 

“Fine,” he sighed. “We’d be utterly miserable. We’d never agree on anything. I’m cold, you’re manipulative, it would never have worked.”

She regretted forcing the issue almost the moment she’d done it. John had an odd look on his face, and she found herself wishing that they were alone.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever apologise to me Penelope,” he said, an edge to his voice.  “We promised, remember.”

That made her laugh.  “We also don’t lie to each other,” she pointed out, “Even when we ask for it.”

“Very true.” John straightened up, gives her a long look with piercing eyes. “You want the truth? You and me, Pen?  Maybe we could have been Bonnie and Clyde, Butch and Sundance, Morticia and Gomez.”

“Those are all great romances,” Penny pointed out gently.

John rolled his eyes.  “You see my problem,” he said tiredly. “Because, you and I, we probably could have made it work for us, if we tried, if we wanted that. But because-” His breath tripped, his emotions catching him off guard.  But he took a deep breath and powered through, like he knew that if he let the tightness in his chest out then she was going to cry too. “I do love you.  I’ve said it before, and I meant it every time.  But not in the ways you deserve.  And because I love you, and I love my brother, I  _ know _ that you and Gordon are just perfect for each other.”  He leaned in, his voice little more than air against her ear.  “He’ll make you happy, Pen.”

For a moment he was worried he’d overdone it, that she might still cry anyway.  But then she pulled it back from the brink, like she always did.  “We’re going to be okay,” she told him, and John knew he could believe her.

“Mind if I cut in?”

Gordon’s cheerful tone cut through the moment, dragging them back to the present. He was pink-cheeked and grinning, dizzily high on champagne and excitement, far too distracted to notice the way Penny and John jolted apart.

“Yes, of course” John recovered first, smiling as he clapped his brother on the shoulder. As he handed Penny off to Gordon he kissed her on the cheek.

“One last dance, as promised.”

“As promised,” she echoed, willing him to understand.

John smiled, soft and achingly fond, drinking in the sight of Penny, hand in hand with Gordon for one long moment.  And then he was gone.

 


End file.
